Back to the Fetal Position
by SewerUrchin
Summary: Next in the Postions series. For our heroes, things come full circle. DB futurefic. AU.
1. Chapter 1: Neck Tease

**Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own "Ugly Betty" or any of the characters or brand names mentioned; I asked Silvio Horta to give me Daniel as a stocking stuffer, but it was a no-go.**

**A/N: This is a sequel to "An Awkward Position"; it takes place a year or so afterwards, actually. You know how I loves me some flashbacks. My reviewers really are the greatest, thank you all for sharing your thoughts with me. I'm on Christmas break from college and have been lounging around in my pajamas writing fanfic...pure bliss, in other words. It's really the result of serious "Ugly Betty" withdrawal. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

Betty Suarez-Meade tested the bath water with a finger and squirted in yet more bubble bath, much to Daniel's amusement.

"I'll never be used to random people strolling up and putting their hands on my belly," she huffed.

Daniel inwardly laughed. Only Betty would refer to New York's social elite as "random people," but come to think of it, Laegerfield _had_ been getting kind of handsy. They had just made their triumphant return from the Meade family's annual Black and White Ball benefit dinner.

It was pretty typical, all in all. Claire drank. Alexis was charmingly passive-aggressive. Amanda flashed everyone. _Nausea, heartburn, indigestion…_ Marc macked on Cliff. Wili bitched. Betty spent at least fifteen minutes at dinner warding of the footsie attempts of a skeazy old fart who most definitely was not Daniel. _Upset stomach, diarrhea_. Daniel gleefully handed out big checks.

Daniel had been practically foaming at the mouth for weeks now at the chance to hand out huge pieces of poster-board. Betty chalked it up to being a man thing. "You know what they say about guys with big checks…" Betty had teased on the limo ride over, looking at him through a raven curtain of hair, and it was all Daniel could do not to prove then and there, for the umpteenth time, that that particular rumor was true. Despite Betty's estimation that she looked like a haggard manatee and moved like a beached whale, to Daniel she was as gloriously, uniquely, remarkably Betty-beautiful as ever, maybe even more so now that she was with child.

Daniel felt the benefit dinner, the first since his father's death and the first of what was being dubbed the "Daniel Meade Era" was a success overall. Wilhelmina had only made four kids cry as opposed to last year's six. The best part was his wife's slinky black low-cut dress, which made Daniel even more territorial than usual, her whispered insistence that she needed a hot bath, Naked!Daniel, and a bottle of kaopectade, and the fact that said dress was now puddled on the floor.

"God, this is divine," Betty sighed, sinking down into the Olympic-sized swimming pool, er, bathtub, settling in between her husband's knees and leaning back into him.

His tongue touched the spot beneath her earlobe, and then he whispered concernedly, "Is the water too hot?"

"It's perfect," she murmured, gently mouthing the strong line of his jaw, one of the few gifts, biological or otherwise, that Bradford had given his younger son. She mentally grinned. She'd spent the first month of her pregnancy trying to work up the nerve to tell Daniel How-Come-This-Goldfish-Is-Dead? Meade that he was going to be a daddy (only to find out that he already sort of knew) and the next three trying to convince him that she wouldn't shatter like spun glass.

She was still working on that last one.

Daniel, playing with the wet black tendrils of her hair, now longer than it had ever been, tugged her head back, and Betty thrilled because she knew what was coming. He bit the back of her neck as tenderly as a mama cat with her kitten, but the explosion of sensation went off like TNT, made her whimper, then tense and relax her shoulders.

She could feel more than hear his deep rumble-laugh against her neck; he knew it was her most sensitive area. "But, really, though" he said, "we can't let this get too far here in this slippery-ass bathtub." He was only half-joking.

"Neck tease," Betty pouted.

She put her hands on his knees and hoisted herself up until she stood naked and dripping above him. "Bed. NOW. You asked for it, Meade."

"Sit your ass back down," Daniel protested shortly. "You'll fall." His words were clipped, the way he spoke when he was really freaked out. He put his big hands on either side of the underside of her belly, caressing gently with his thumbs, a stark contrast to his sharp words. His blue doe eyes were wide and frightened and earnest, not just of this moment but moments to come, and Betty noticed, not for the first time, that looking into Daniel Meade's eyes was like looking up at the dome of the midday sky—it was also twice as dizzying and exhilarating, because one was never sure when gazing up into the eyes of a Meade what one would find flying around in there.

He got to his feet, his steadying hands traveling up to her shoulders, and there they both stood, wet and dripping and shivering and exhilarated just with the nearness of each other.

Betty finally broke the charged silence. "I won't break, baby," she said seriously, for the gazillionth time this pregnancy. She smiled suddenly, going for a lighter tone. "Besides, you're one to lecture me on safety protocol," she said primly, stepping out of the tub. "Mister I-Can't-Take-My-Heart-Meds-Because-I-Can't-Swallow-Pills-and-They-Taste-Like-Ass and blah, blah, blah, Lame-Excuse-Cakes."

Daniel wasn't the only one that was fiercely protective of his significant other. Betty had not-so-secretly been spun ever since the doctor had informed Daniel that he'd inherited Bradford's heart condition. Daniel was, as always, stubborn as hell, but none the wiser when she'd started grinding up his meds and putting them in his morning coffee.

It had been a tip from Claire, followed by the advice that it was always fun and beneficial to let Meade males think they were getting away with something.

**Well, what do you think? I'd love to know, so please review! This is multi-chapter, by the way, so more to come. :)**


	2. Chapter 2: The Chupacabra

**A/N: And here's the second chapter…nothing major happens, really, just gobs of Daniel, Betty, and background. My reviewers are made of awesome, THANK YOU!!! Ahem. **

After their honeymoon, there was really no way Betty _couldn't_ have been pregnant. Condoms hadn't exactly been a top priority, what with all the groping and screaming and moaning, followed by spooning and sleeping, which was followed by more groping, screaming and moaning. She was pretty sure the resort had billed them extra for all the noise pollution pouring out of their suite.

Daniel, though, probably would've remained clueless right up until the water broke, until Claire, Alexis, Amanda and Christina had pointed out what had been, it seemed, totally obvious to everyone but him.

**flashback**

_He had been in a meeting with Alexis and Claire in his office, some useless leftover rigmarole about Bradford's estate that should've been cleared up ages ago, and Daniel had been consistently staring at Betty through the fishbowl partition. _

_Claire had dryly stated, "She's not due for another eight months, Daniel, please try to focus. I have a spa appointment at two o'clock."_

"_What? You think Betty's…"_

_Alexis filed and examined a glossy nail. "Jesus, Danny, even I knew that, and I used to be a man."_

_He asked Amanda, who had stalked in seeking his signature, if she had known. Her eyes widened then her lids lowered, making a face like she had just smelled a fart. She sniffed. "Well, yeah. Our girl's been a regular little Chupacabra lately. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." She stalked back out. _

_Daniel noticed how she threw Betty a glance that could've been construed as affectionate, kinda, if you squinted and looked at it upside down, on her way back to the circular desk. She slipped Betty a Snickers, which earned her a grateful look._

"_Christina?" he inquired desperately of the Scottish seamstress as she came in pushing an enormous rack of clothes. She barely looked up from her labor._

"_Bloody hell, Daniel!" she muttered, then turned around and left. "Numpty."_

_When Daniel had looked back on the past month, yes, some things were starting to make sense._

_Amanda's strange willingness, almost eagerness, to share her private candy stash with Betty was not the least of the clues. He'd also recently had the piss scared out of him when he'd come home to find her sobbing brokenly on the bed, until he realized she was watching the Weather Channel. Apparently the news that it was partly cloudy in Dallas with a high of 87 degrees was too much for her. _

_And he took it happily that her breasts, splendid to begin with, seemed to be expanding, although he wondered at the cruel joke that she was less inclined to let him touch them now. _

_Betty looked up from her monitor to see the entire Meade clan gazing at her lovingly; one Meade in particular wore an expression that was pale and freaked, but adoring nonetheless. She sighed._

_It was going to be a long eight months._

**/flashback**

Daniel picked her up in one smooth movement ( made possible by a lifetime gym membership, the tasty results of which Betty tended to enjoy more than he did) and Betty wrapped herself around him, legs around his waist (_thighs of steel, yay!_), her arms entwined around his neck. His big hands were on her ass, supporting her and their baby easily; their skin was slippery-seal smooth and overly sensitized from the heat of the bath followed by the shock of the cool surrounding air and _Whoa, Nelly, I guess we're doing it here and now…_

Betty's cell rang from its place on the counter. _Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN, damn. Damn._

Daniel sat Betty on the marble countertop, ensconced in a fluffy towel, their damp foreheads pressed together.

"Tell whoever it is to go the fuck away," Daniel growl-panted, much like a winded randy tiger.

Betty looked at the cell's tiny screen. "I'm sure Vincent Bianchi would be thrilled to hear it." She flipped it open.

"Hi, Vince."

"Hey, girlie. Just reminding you guys of the photo shoot at 9 am sharp tomorrow morning. By the by, I can hear Daniel back there cursing me, and no, my friend, I'm pretty sure my mother does not do _that_. Oh, and Betty? Bring that fantastic glow of yours. You know, be all sweet and maternal and shit. Toodles."

Considering that, by the time she had flipped her cell closed, the towel was ancient history and Daniel was busy demonstrating why he had been popular with the ladies since the age of fourteen, she doubted a glow would be that hard to work up.

Her complexion had been simply amazing since her and Daniel's union.

**Well, what do you think? Lurve it or hates it, I want to know, so please, please review :)**


	3. Chapter 3: Power Couple

**A/N: I adore my readers/reviewers, so in order to make up for the shortness of the previous chapter, I tried to make this one a doozy. (Hopefully) happy reading, and, as always, reviews are treasured!**

The next morning, as he'd done every morning since he'd been clued in that he'd knocked her up, Daniel lay with his head against Betty's belly, listening for any sign of tiny little Rosa Claire Suarez-Meade. Betty's eyes opened a slit and marveled at how much they looked like that scene in _Jurassic Park_, where the paleontologists were lying against the rising and falling belly of the dyspeptic triceratops.

She glanced over at the clock. 3 am. Surprise, surprise. Her head whipped around as the baby aimed a kicked to the bladder (_cheap shot, takes after her Auntie Hilda_) and her husband's resulting whoop of joy.

"She kicked me in the head!" He looked like a kid at Christmas.

"That's SO going on your tombstone." Betty struggled to sit up and crawl across the damned ginormous four poster to get to the bathroom. She fancied that she looked like a sea turtle that, having laid her eggs and fulfilled her function in the life cycle, was painstakingly shuffling back towards the ocean.

Daniel propped up on one elbow, his head resting on his hand, and made moon-eyes at her figure. He'd never quite lost the look of a spoiled young sultan perusing what was due him, especially when it came to her. Nowadays, rather than get supremely annoyed at his lustful smirks, Betty was quite flattered that he was still turned on by someone that, in her opinion, looked like the Michelin Man had had a sex change.

"So…" he said. "Glow achieved."

"We are glowing, yes…oh, stop preening, you. The downside is I'll be walking like John Wayne into the photo shoot. They'll know my glow isn't entirely maternal in nature."

Daniel didn't look sheepish in the least.

DBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBD

It was with great reluctance that Vincent Bianchi and Beckett Scott agreed to collaborate on the photo shoot; Becks was responsible for the conceptual aspect and Vince was to work the camera. Unlike free agent Bianchi, Becks didn't mind sharing the glory, as long as there was someone in a thong within easy groping distance.

Betty knew that she didn't exactly fit the bill, but just the same, she wasn't surprised when hands covered her eyes from behind.

"Guess who."

Betty crossed her arms. "Hmm. Could it be the only man with the _cajones_ to blatantly hit on me not three feet away from my husband? A Mr. Beckett Scott, if I had to venture a guess."

Becks uncovered her eyes and put his arm around her. "You win the prize. What's crackin', Luscious Suarez-Meade? I have some portfolio pictures I want you to take a peep at."

Betty looked at him dubiously. It was really the only way she had ever been able to look at Becks. "The last time you wanted me to look at your pictures, I deeply regretted it."

Becks appeared hurt. "They were the result of the majestic use of creative license, I'll have you know!"

"They were semi-pornographic."

"Oh, well. Tomato, tomahto."

Daniel walked up, pulled Betty into his arms, and kissed the top of her head. "Bianchi wants to see you for some last minute primping. You'd think you were being granted an audience with the Pope."

Betty laughed. For all their sniping, she knew Daniel and Vincent had become good friends.

"It's just as well that you run along," Becks said to her. "I have to tell Daniel about my date last night, and I can't do it with a lady present." He winked at her.

"I'll leave you to your manly posturing," Betty said over her shoulder.

Daniel and Becks watched her stride off. Daniel clapped an arm around Becks, just a squeeze away from being a headlock, after he noticed that Becks, too, was enjoying the back view of Betty.

"Becks," he said amiably, "You do realize that every time you hit on my wife, you come that much closer to winning a free vasectomy, courtesy of Meade Publications?"

Becks shot him a cocky yet knowing grin. "Jealous?"

"Of you? Have I ever been?"

"Jealousguysayswhat."

"What?"

Becks chuckled and answered his vibrating cell. "Gotta go, dude."

"Anyone I know?"

"First name's 'Booty,' last name's 'Call.' Yeah, I think you've met." He shouted over to Betty, "Bye, Betty-licious." She waggled her fingers in a tired farewell.

As Becks strode off to rendezvous with his next conquest, he had a rare thought of depth. Becks had known Daniel since the age of fourteen, and his friend had always been a suave, sweet, smooth lady-killer. While Daniel raised his fair share of hell, Becks was the raucous one, while Daniel worked the sensitive angle. Women adored it, and Daniel had taken full advantage.

Beck knew things about Daniel's past that could make one's toes curl, so his devotion to Betty and vice versa was something of a mystery at first. But Becks, upon spending time chatting and playing coffee-break poker with her, had gradually come to accept her as a permanent and healthy fixture in Daniel's life. Besides, she was actually quite cute, although the first time he'd said as much to Daniel, he was lucky to escape with all his important body parts intact. Once he'd been duly warned away, Becks had to admit, he'd felt a little wistful. She really was a great girl.

Despite calling Daniel "Pussy McWhipped" for two months after he started dating Betty, Becks had, in the end, no objections to the union, and had even been the best man at the wedding. Betty had the 'Beckett Scott Seal of Approval', a fact that, after he'd expressed as much in his wedding toast, caused Betty to sigh that she could now die happy.

DBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBBDBDBDB

Daniel turned back to his wife, who was looking amazing in a simple, floaty, baby blue sun gown.

Vincent muttered, "If I can get these morons to MOVE THE FREAKING POOL, we can get started. Jesus H. Christ…"

They glanced over. Indeed, there was a massive above-ground swimming pool from the previous photo shoot, in which models had cavorted in semi-muddy water strewn with flower petals of all colors and varieties.

Betty's face assumed an innocent expression, but her eyes were sly. She approached the pool and, before anyone could stop her, had stepped in.

"Oh, for God's sake…Betty!!! Daniel, go get the little pain in the ass out of the pool. What the hell are you thinking?!"

Betty looked distressed, but not greatly so. "I have an idea, but, Daniel, you have to come closer to hear it." She held out her arms in supplication and her brows crinkled pleadingly.

Daniel leaned over the side of the pool and casually looked down at his wife, unperturbed. This was familiar territory. "Hey, gorgeous crazy pregnant lady. Bianchi's about to have a hernia." He didn't look too bothered by the fact.

Betty smiled, a gently impish expression. "He's about to have a hernia times two." She pulled Daniel in after her.

Bianchi, needless to say, flipped out. "OH CHRIST. You two have officially pissed me off…hey, wait a sec…" Husband and wife were completely ignoring him, tousling like kids in the water, splashing each other and nuzzling noses like two amorous seals. They were mugging and they didn't even know it. Well, maybe Betty did. That girl…

Bianchi's camera began working overtime, capturing Betty tugging Daniel's hair gently so that he leaned down and kissed her. Good, but not quite _it_.

But Daniel then picked her up and twirled her around, a soft collage of petals clinging to her equally soft, bare cool skin, wide dynamite grin, wet hair flying around her face and sending water droplets everywhere, running in rivulets down the skin of the man who held her in such reverence.

The camera immortalized this moment, the cover shot of the May issue of Mode. It was to be the highest selling issue thus far of the "Daniel Meade Era," topping even the "Fey's Sleigh Ride" tribute issue. The caption was to read: "The Power Behind the Throne."

"Beautiful, beautiful, so friggin' beautiful," Bianchi gushed at the laughing couple, still giving each other sexy little splashes.

A voice rang out in concurrence with Bianchi's statement, not a shout, but still echoing in the corridor:

"She was always beautiful."

The despite the shy overtones, the voice was clear and robust and strong; there was nothing aggressive whatsoever about the statement, but to Betty, each word flung into her damp, shivering form like an arrow.

It was Henry.

**Ooooooh, look who's back. I knew I wanted to bring Grubstank back in some capacity, and now I need ideas on what to do with him. He still has a baby back in Tuscon, by the way, making this wonderfully trickier. I'm evil, I know. Please give me your suggestions, and I'll try to incorporate as many as I can into the next chapters. If you don't have any ideas, that's okay...neither do I. Thanks to one and all :) **


	4. Chapter 4: Two Man Enter, One Man Leave

**A/N: Hi everyone, you wonderful reviewers, you! Thank you all SO much! Sorry it's taken a while to update, but I hope this chapter does not disappoint. Along those lines, though, I will say this: Henry fans will not like this. Or maybe they will, if they don't mind seeing Henry in a less-than-flattering, or shall we say, more human light. I don't hate the character; I just decided to take a different route with him. You'll see what I mean.**

The moment really was utterly priceless; if it had, you know, been happening to other people.

Yes, there was Henry Grubstank in all his nerdy, rat-fink-ex-boyfriend-of-Betty-and therefore-must-die glory. Amanda stood beside him in her customary pose, one hand on a dramatically outthrust hip, little pointy elbow akimbo; her face was as nonchalant as if she were sitting at the reception desk filing her nails, but her eyes were uncharacteristically apologetic and uncomfortable. Her lip gloss had been all but chewed off, one of the only indications of nerves she was likely to show.

"I…I tried to stop him, but…" her voice faltered. Daniel and Betty were touched to see that one tiny, seemingly frail white hand had a chokehold on Henry's collar, as if prepared to drag him away if necessary; she was, when all was said and done, a friend to the couple.

"It's okay, Amanda," came a small, wispy voice, seemingly from far away. Daniel had to look down and make sure it was really his formerly vivacious Betty that had spoken. He noticed how his wife's wet dress clung to every luscious curve of her body. If he looked up at Henry, he knew he was observing and appreciating the same.

Daniel motioned for an assistant to hand him a towel and he wrapped her up, noting achingly that she was shaking like a Chihuahua without its knitted sweater. Also, there was no use in Henry getting a free peep-show, seeing what was _his_.

Then, without warning, Betty kissed him. One second she was standing there as if she had just landed on another planet, the next there was some serious tonsil-hockey.

It was a statement, no doubt about it, taking a stand. Her pregnant belly stood out in profile, her hand with its princess cut sapphire wedding ring was caressing his cheek, all in plain view of her ex, whose handsome face became flushed at the sight. Henry averted his eyes behind their coke bottle glasses.

Daniel thrilled at the contact, the reassurance. He knew Betty wasn't flaunting anything to be cruel, that kind of meanness just wasn't comprehensible to her now or ever, but still, a point must be made.

Betty's tongue gave his a final caress, and she didn't withdraw before gently sucking on his perfect bottom lip for a few seconds. They stood gazing at each other in the charged silence. Her message was clear. _Daniel, I love you. I adore you. Don't worry, baby, you're still mine._

Then, with all the dignity of a queen perusing a troublesome yet once-beloved subject, she turned to Henry. Her full lips parted to speak. Everyone in the room, from Amanda to the lowliest peon, inclined his or her head to catch every juicy tidbit. Someone was about to get ripped a new one. Camera phones were at the ready.

The double doors flew open with a bang, and everyone parted with their respective skins. In swept Claire Meade, Daniel's regal mother, her blonde hair swept back with a tortoiseshell clip, a grotesquely expensive and fashionable shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders. Every bit of the ensemble complemented her creamy fair skin—Daniel's skin, and Alexis's, too, Betty thought vaguely. Everything seemed surreal now.

"I want to go to the spa," she declared, oblivious. "And I want to go with my daughter-in-law, not that little cat-eyed, bulimic assistant you always stick me with." She followed her son's disgusted, bemused gaze. His expression was the same as when he was a little boy and he had been served snails for the first time.

She looked Henry up and down, and looked for the world like she had just been told an ironic, somewhat tasteless joke. "Oh, my." Outwardly, she looked wholly unimpressed, but this is where one could get in trouble with the Meades, Betty knew. They cared the most, they were at their most observant, when they appeared not to give two shits.

Claire locked eyes with Daniel and glided over to him. Her message was clear: _Warn. Him. Away. From. Her. By any means necessary._ All the ruthlessness of the Meades were present in two sets of blue eyes, tempestuous in seemingly calm faces.

Daniel took Betty's face in his. Betty was surrounded by determined, protective Meades, as she noticed that one of Claire's slender, elegant hands was wrapped around Betty's upper arm, ready to remove her to safer climes at Daniel's signal. "Make sure my mother doesn't drink the bubble bath." He kissed her tenderly to still any protest.

Daniel usually resisted when Claire required Betty's lunch-break presence at the spa, namely because Daniel wanted to make out, and also because his mother was, well, batshit insane. But Daniel just might have to go a little batshit himself in a minute, and he wanted Betty out of the line of fire for his little one-on-one with Henry.

"Daniel…" Betty murmured against his lips, her sweet breath filling his mouth, his senses.

"Don't worry, I don't plan on kicking any Grubstanky ass. _Unless he really pisses me off or he looks at your ass One. More. Time. _Now go get mud-plastered."

Betty sighed. She had been dismissed. On her way out the door, she locked eyes with Henry. "Hello, Henry." He nodded in response. She talked to him as if she were the hostess and he was the uninvited guest, polite but distracted. In a way, she was the hostess in Daniel's expansive empire. No passionate flame smoldered behind her eyes as she greeted him. She looked back at Daniel and blew him a kiss.

Daniel caught it and pressed it against his cheek.

And just like that, the flame was ignited.

DBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBD

Daniel knew Betty would be proud of his restraint. He was being cheery enough, downright jovial, and the best part was, he half expected Henry to wet his pants. When he saw Henry gaze at the photo of a smiling, healthy tanned Betty on his desk, Daniel dropped the act.

He was about to speak when he stopped abruptly. Every employee on the floor was plastered against the fishbowl glass of his office. Daniel stuck his head out the door and, without much venom, rumbled "Get lost or you're all fired."

They left grumbling, more disappointed than cowed, and Amanda could be heard saying to Marc, "Well, that _would_ have been faboo…maybe the security cameras will catch some blood splatters…"

Henry looked unsure. Daniel sighed and said, "I'll keep it civil if you will." Henry had leant a friendly ear once, during the "Petra-Gate" debacle, and they had even bonded slightly over Betty-love, so he felt he had to at least endeavor to keep it civil. But the residual Neanderthal in Daniel was saying "BETTY GOOD. BETTY PRETTY. BETTY **MINE**. HENRY **BAD**."

"Daniel, I'm not here to steal her away…" Henry began.

Daniel really wanted to say _As if you could. You give yourself too much credit, boy_. Civility. Sigh. Instead: "I talk first. And it's Mr. Meade." Daniel interrupted. "Betty's my wife. And she's pregnant. And she's my wife."

Henry swallowed heavily. "I noticed."

Daniel said, "Look. I know you loved Betty once. And I know that she…_tolerated_…you," he gritted out. "I can't fault you for loving her, and I believe you did. But it wasn't enough to grow a pair and do what was best for everyone involved, was it? At least, not until it was too late and Betty's heart was demolished. There are two things that stick in my craw about you, Henry. And before I start in, I want to state the obvious fact that I myself have been no choir boy in my life. And I know why you had to leave. I have a wife and baby on the way myself." Daniel looked absolutely besottedly at the picture of Betty and ran a finger over the frame. Daniel really did understand Henry leaving to be a proper father to his child. Although money and other mundane concerns would never really be an issue with Betty and Daniel, the fear of being an inadequate parent, he felt, was universal.

"But," Daniel eventually continued, "there's the little fact that you continued sleeping with Charlie when you had feelings for Betty. No, you and Betty weren't together at the time so you didn't cheat on her. But that really was jackassery at its finest. You couldn't even work up the guts to cut it off for good with the woman you no longer loved before knocking her up. And speaking of not cutting things off, you entered into a relationship with Betty knowing full well how it would end. Granted, it takes two to tango, but you had a chance to be the bigger person, the stronger person, to make it a clean break. You didn't, Henry." The conversation took a turn. "So why are you even here?"

"I have some affairs to take care of."

Daniel shot him a truly deadly look, complete with raised eyebrows and lowered lids.

Henry blanched. "Sorry, wrong choice of words. I have some _issues_ to take care of."

Daniel looked at him skeptically. "You've been gone a long time, Henry. What possible issues…"

"Insurance…things like that. None of your business, really."

"I saw the way you were looking at my wife. Throw some putrid history in the mix and it makes it my damn business."

Henry's brief contact with his spine was gone. "I just couldn't leave without saying 'hello.'"

"Well, you've said it. I saw you." The words '_Now feel free to piss off'_ hung unspoken in the cool office air.

Henry took the hint. "Are we done here?"

Daniel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. "That's up to you. For your sake, I certainly hope so."

Henry realized, not for the first time, that Daniel Meade just might be a dangerous man to run afoul of.

DBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDB

Henry walked down the space-age tunnel away from Daniel's office. He didn't miss this place. It gave him the creeps, frankly. Thoughts were churning in his head, though, and in his stomach, and he recalled an arid Arizona day about a week ago.

**Flashback**

_It was one of those fateful phone calls, really. _

_Henry rolled over in bed, grabbing for his glasses although he didn't know why. One didn't need to see to be able to talk on the phone. He resented the caller immediately, without knowing who it was, for waking him up, bringing him back to a reality where he couldn't afford to feed himself, much less pay his child support._

_Accountants weren't exactly in high demand in the desert._

_Charlie, for all her Stevie Nicks-ish trappings was a high-maintenance little thing. That didn't help._

"_Hello?" he mumbled groggily._

"_Henry Grubstick?" came a svelte, smooth-as-molten-chocolate voice, an immediately enchanting voice that nonetheless made his hackles rise._

"_May I ask who's calling?" he asked politely._

"_Wilhelmina Slater, Creative Director for Mode magazine. I have a proposition for you. A small task, really, that I daresay will pay very well."_

"_I've heard of you, Ms. Slater." Betty and Daniel's arch-nemesis. "Betty told me how you operate and I want no part of it. What do would you possibly want me for, anyway? I'm just an accountant. __**Was**__ an accountant," he sadly amended._

"_How about stirring up a little dust, creating a little distraction between Betty and Daniel? They are married, you know. No one will get hurt, Henry, don't worry. I simply have to accomplish something that I've worked very hard for, something I was robbed of, and I can't do it with Daniel watchdogging my every move. That's all."_

_Henry knew he should've hung up, should've blocked out the seductive voice that gave a more seductive figure at that very moment, "For three hundred thousand dollars." Wili needn't have paused for dramatic emphasis. The thought of a college fund for his son was dramatic enough. No one would be hurt, she'd promised, although deep down Henry knew her word was as good as the cheap mattress he was sleeping on. _

_Subconsciously, also, was the roiling fury of Betty moving on so quickly, to Daniel freakin' Meade, manwhore, spoiled brat, incompetent as all hell… He'd do it. He pushed his screaming conscience aside._

"_What do I do?"_

"_Just show up here in Manhattan. Make your presence known. That's it, that's all. No muss, no fuss, dear."_

"_I'll be there in a couple of days."_

"_I look forward to it." _

_Wili promptly hung up. She looked at the disc in her hand, seeing rainbow shards rotating around her own hard-won, beautiful reflection. She let the CD-ROM slide down her index finger and she twirled it happily._

_Medusa X._

_No muss, no fuss._

**/end flashback.**

**A/N: Told you Henry fans would be mad. Please don't flame me all to hell—well, if you're going to flame me all to hell, please don't do it 'cause of Henry. Just if you think the story bites ;) That being said, please review. I'm begging as usual, I'm not too proud. I'd love to know your thoughts. **


	5. Chapter 5: Yoko Ono

**A/N: My reviewers will forever be adored. I'm serious, you guys rock my world, thank you all into infinity :D This is a chappie where not much happens; it fits into the story overall, of course, but it's kind of a reflective chapter overall. A little Betty and Claire bonding, if you will. Hope you like.**

Betty was in a foul-ass mood.

She'd brought the general layout of the "Power Behind the Throne" May issue with her and sat reading in a uncomfortable minimalist swivel chair at the dimly lit spa. She swore up and down to Claire that she wouldn't get swatted with bamboo fans while having all her limbs rearranged a la Picasso again, and she meant it. Claire was watching her calmly and openly from her belly-down place on the masseuse's table.

"Betty Suarez-Meade: Moving on up to become half of the world's most endearing power couple." Betty read the byline out loud. "Translation: 'Betty Suarez, that gold-digging whore: if she can land a rich-ass man, so can you!'" Betty stuffed the papers back into the manila envelope with disgust. "Add in the fact that I don't exactly fit the mold of your average corporate wife, and you have the press practically salivating to see if I'll be the Meade clan's Yoko Ono."

Claire chuckled, a dry-as-dust melody. "Think nothing of it. When I first married Bradford, they as good as said I rolled off the cabbage wagon and lap danced my way to an engagement ring. And to address your second bitching point, my dear, just because you can't bounce quarters off your ass doesn't mean you're not up to all the Meade legacy entails."

"Well, Daniel always did like my child-bearing hips." Betty sighed and cradled her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, Mom. It's just that every insecurity I've ever had seems amplified today. Today…" She trailed off tiredly. Words hardly did the Henry situation justice.

Claire, as usual, understood. "It's one of those days that makes me wish I was in Tibet sleeping under a yak, like Yoga and I had planned."

Betty giggled, charmed despite herself. Claire had passed down the gift (and weapon, sometimes) of dry, sharp, biting, sometimes cruel wit to her two children.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" The question was so blunt that Betty's head snapped up. Yet the voice was gentle and there was no accusation to be found there.

Betty knew one could never beat around the bush when talking to a Meade; you either started forming sentences promptly or prepare to be steamrollered even worse than you were before. It was the best kind of therapy, really.

"He was my first real love," Betty explained. "I'll cherish that time with him, that _feeling_ in my heart, always. But I'm completely, blissfully, totally in love with your son. That will never, ever change."

"Oh, sweetheart, I know that. You and Daniel are fused at the molecular level." She gave a wave of her hand. "But why are you so shaken, sitting here dredging up old insecurities of how you don't look like a Barbie Pez dispenser, distracting yourself from the issue at hand, if you're not still _in_ love with Harry, at least a little bit?"

Betty had been wondering this herself, actually. But Claire always brought her around to a clear solution, eventually. That was perhaps the Meades' greatest gift and liability: the ability to see all things crystal clearly. They saw their own faults and motivations better than Freud ever could, and yet this remarkable family was so bogged down in ever-present addictions they could see but not fight.

But Betty could, and she verbally put her spinning thoughts out there for perusal. "You and Daniel practically shoved me out before I got to really and truly reassure my husband, in words, how _not_ a threat Henry is to us. He's so insecure sometimes," she fretted.

Claire nodded. It was true. When Daniel felt insecure, he tended to push people away, to soften the blow of what he felt was an impending rejection.

"Our marriage is so new. Nothing like this has ever really come up before," Betty finished softly, plucking at the black fabric of the chair, making it fray.

Claire reached for her own cell and tossed it to Betty. "He'd never admit it, but my son is scared shitless 24-7, 365 of losing you. Before we left, he was doing that thing where he shrugs and then shoves his hands down into his pockets…"

"And paces back and forth a few feet…" Betty smiled.

"And starts chewing on the left half of his lower lip," they both finished in unison, laughing.

Betty grinned, feeling warm and flushed at the thought of her husband. Oh, it would definitely be fun reassuring Daniel of her affections. _Clear the schedule tonight, baby._

"Do you think Henry's still alive?" Betty asked as she dialed Daniel's cell.

"Life support may be needed," Claire mumbled, now face-down on the table, her motherly duties now on hold for the sake of her lumbar region.

Daniel answered on the first ring. "Mom?"

"No, I'm just using her cell. So, I was thinking…"

Daniel's voice had a low urgent quality that scared her. "Betty, I need you here. Tell Mom to come, too. Something's happened to the computer network, I don't know what in the blue rip-roaring fuck is going on…"

_Oooookay, no time for dirty-talk, then._ If Daniel was swearing, she knew it was bad. He never swore around her anymore, but not because of any moral aversion; Daniel could let out a truly brilliant blue streak when he wanted. He just had this weird theory that if he swore around her, the dirty words would magically pierce the walls of the uterus and the baby would hear it, too.

"Hold on, sweetie, I'm on my way." She flipped the cell closed. "Come on, Mom, let's book it. Sounds like the shit's hit the couture at Mode."

**A/N: Told you nothing much happens. I just felt I had to establish that while Betty will always love the idea of her first love Henry, she undoubtedly belongs to and with Daniel. Not gonna change, at least in my fics. Plus, I really love Betty and Claire's relationship and think Judith Light is shamefully underused on the show. Anyway, reviews are coveted. Thanks :D**


	6. Chapter 6: Disaster on Toast

**A/N: My reviewers are SO FREAKIN' SWEET. I don't deserve you guys, really, but that doesn't stop your reviews from making my decade. Thank you all so very, very much.**

**In other news, it looks like the final original ****Ugly Betty**** has aired for now. Which means yours truly has some rough times in store that may involve a tantrum or two. Or maybe just a lot more fanfic. So here's the next chapter for this story. A lot of it is explanatory with, I hope, some semi-witty banter. Hope you like, but whether you do or not, please review, I beg of you. That rhymes.**

_Holy shit on toast._

The elevator door opened on the Mode floor to reveal a sodden, bedraggled Amanda. Her attitude had washed off along with most of her makeup, and she was halfheartedly dabbing at her cleavage with a tissue. Her other hand clutched a mostly-scarfed bag of Doritos.

When she looked up and saw Betty and Claire gaping, she made an attempt to straighten her narrow shoulders, swaying side-to-side in a parody of cobra-like attitude.

Betty wasn't buying it. "What the hell happened to you?"

Amanda slouched, deflated, and tilted the Doritos bag, emptying the contents into her wide open trap. She paused in her binge. "The. Virus. Tripped. The. Sprinkler. System," she sassed loudly and slowly around a mouthful of chips, accompanied by Hilda-esque flailing and pointing. As usual, the implied phantom "Duh" was tacked on at the end.

"Virus?" Claire had crossed her arms, one wrapped around her midriff and the other hand curled, contemplatively elegant, under her chin.

"Walk and talk," Amanda declared, grabbing Betty and Claire and escorting them in the direction of Himself's office. Betty and Claire gingerly stepped over piles of sodden paper and standing puddles as they went. Amanda wryly glanced back and rolled her eyes, slogging right through. "Trust me, in an hour you won't even give a shit."

She twirled a strand of damp hair the color of past-its-prime straw around her index finger. "Anyway, Evilmena launched an eeevil funky-ass virus called Medusa X right from her eeevil funky-ass office. I guess that's what blowing someone in the Ministry of Defense will get you. Can't say girlfriend doesn't have connections." Amanda looked more contemplative than repulsed.

Betty curled her lip and prodded her to continue. "When was this?"

"Ouch, nails! God, I miss the days when you refused to spring for a manicure. Anywho, it was a few hours ago. Around the time Daniel was giving La Grubstank the third degree."

_The perfect distraction, in other words._

The thought rose, unbidden, like a demon clawing its way out of Hades. There was nothing suggestive in Amanda's tone as she conveyed the information, but it didn't stop Betty's mind from tripping across the sickening possibility.

_Oh, come on, Betty, this is __**Henry **__we're talking about! The most devious thing he's ever done is swipe a "Superman" comic when he was five, and he felt so guilty by the time he got to the parking lot that he 'fessed up right there!_

"Betty?" Amanda's tone was sharp but not unkind.

Betty's head snapped up.

Amanda was eyeing her, and she gave a single curt nod to Betty's big belly. "Don't stress too much, okay? Now go work your magic on Daniel." She glanced around. "On this place," she murmured, almost sadly. "Oreos await." She pranced off.

The click of high heels on Mode's polished floors was certainly nothing new, but for some reason Alexis's approach was always unmistakable to Betty.

The stunning glamazon transvestite turned in a circle, put her hands on her hips, and for a finale, mirrored Betty's initial reaction. "Holy shit on toast."

Of all the Meades, Alexis was the most unfathomable to Betty. On some occasions, she could display a kindness equal to Daniel's, even to the point of attempting to knit tiny baby boots for Rosa Claire, although Betty was convinced that was more due to Alexis's most recent cycle of hormone shots than anything.

But other times, she could be as ruthless and cold and downright freakin' frightening as old Bradford himself had been. It was Betty's theory that she was every bit as painfully sensitive as her brother—she just resorted to more drastic measures when provoked, slipping on her almost detached militant mask and aiming below the belt, usually Daniel's.

Betty hoped her brother-turned-sister-in-law would unleash the latter side of herself in the upcoming battle with Wilhelmina.

Claire, Betty and Alexis stood uncertainly outside Daniel's office, all trying to play it off like they weren't nervous about going in a getting a full damage estimate from the Editor-in-Chief himself.

"Well," Alexis grinned, maneuvering Betty and Claire through the doorway, "ladies first."

DBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBD

Daniel was totally putting on a wet t-shirt contest in which he was undoubtedly the winner. His wet shirt clung in all the deliciously right places and his muscles bulged and rippled as he crossed and uncrossed his arms, talking on his cell with the skeezy editor of the porny magazine three floors up.

"So the computer systems aren't fucked up there? Thank God." He grabbed Betty's hand and absently began rubbing it against his cheek. Betty shivered with pleasure. _Looks like Alexis isn't the only one tripping out on hormones. Sheesh, Betty._

Daniel hung up and pulled Betty into a one-armed embrace, kissing her temple. "Well, the good news is that Mode is the only magazine in the building that the bitch sprung this on. The bad news is that we at Mode are still royally fucked."

"We certainly have our work cut out for us," Alexis sighed. "Please tell me you fired her rubber ass, Danny."

"No, dumbass, I gave her a raise and a fruit basket," Daniel spat. "Of course I fired her—and called the police, for what good that will do."

"What do you mean?" Betty spoke from where her head was resting on Daniel's chest.

He brushed tendrils of hair off her forehead, his annoyance at his sister dissipating under her soft brown gaze. "Let's just say Wili gets around. She probably gave a lap dance to Sergeant Stevens in the patrol car on the way to prison and will no doubt have sucked off the judge and bribed the jury before the week is out. She knows how to get what she wants, which, in this case, is to get off scot free and proceed to screw us over from afar."

"It was almost better when she had to report to Mode every day," Claire mused. "At least we could somewhat keep an eye on her."

"Not really," Daniel said wearily, parking his really, really gorgeous ass in his swivel chair and pulling Betty down to sit on his lap. "I mean, it's not like Marc would report her unless someone offered him an incentive bigger than she could, and she certainly managed to slide under my radar with the Medusa X bit. Of course, I was talking to Henry at the time, so I was a little distracted…"

Betty blanched and immediately began to shift in his arms. She wished for all the world she could erase the looks of Henry-centric suspicion on dawning on everyone's face.

Including her own.

**The lovely blue button says "Review"—it compels you to obey… :D**


	7. Chapter 7: A Quiet Moment

**A/N: My reviewers are da bomb. I know, I'm hopelessly lame, but really, thank you guys. It's been awhile since I last updated, and I apologize for that. I'm just OCD when it comes to my many WIPs sometimes and I really didn't know where I was going with this. But I've figured it out. So without further ado…**

"Oh, for God's sake, you two!" Alexis pounded on the door of the janitor's closet for the eighteenth time that hour. And for the eighteenth time that hour, Daniel and Betty ignored her.

"I don't know why you won't just let them be, dear." Claire had found a non-water-logged spot and moistened a finger, the better to flip through a copy of the cooking magazine from five floors down. "You know they'll both be useless as all hell unless they get to shag periodically. Mark my words, they'll walk out of that closet as fresh as two daisies and we can get to work."

As uncomfortable as ever with her mother's frankness, especially when it came to her brother and sister-in-law's ungodly libido, Alexis had to nod. She sighed and sat down.

"Every minute Daniel's boffing Betty is another minute he's not throttling Henry. So we should count our blessings, I guess," she conceded.

Meanwhile in the Janitor's Closet O' _Oh God, Yes!_, Daniel panted, "Just five… more… minutes, then… I'll find Henry and… throttle him…"

Betty, from her place atop a discarded desk, found it impossible to get too irritated with him when he was about to send her on a one-way trip to Orgasm-Ville, so she let the Henry comment slide for the moment.

Everyone in the Mode offices barely looked up as, from within the closet, they heard a "HOLY SHIT," then silence. They all knew the drill…see no sex, hear no sex, speak no sex. Aside from some halfhearted rib-nudging and eye-brow waggling, Detty sex was par for the course around here, and old news at that.

Betty was still wrapped around Daniel, trying desperately to land back on earth so she and her husband could start, you know, saving the company from Satan's Handmaiden's Techno-gonorrhea. But the baby squirmed between them and they both couldn't resist savoring this quiet moment.

Daniel cupped her belly with his hands, knelt, and kissed his where his daughter's tiny foot had "bopped" just moments before. "Who's daddy's little princess? Huh? Who's my sweet baby?"

Betty mock-pouted. "I thought I was your sweet baby."

Daniel grinned. "You're Sweet Baby Number One." He gave her stomach a final, lingering caress. "This is Sweet Baby Version 2.0."

He really, really wanted an afternoon nap with his wife, both of them naked as the day they were born, the sunlight streaming in on them as they lay entwined in their massive four-poster at home. But there was an empire to keep from crumbling to ash and one Henry Grubstank to dismember.

He regretfully turned the conversation to more serious matters. "Betty, we need to find Henry."

Betty crossed her arms. "Why does everyone think he had anything at all to do with it? It's Henry, Daniel, not a villain in a Bond movie. We're not talking a usual suspect here."

"Don't get all huffy and defensive. I'm just saying—he shows up here for no good reason, totally random and out of left field. It's not like New York is a hop, skip and a jump from Tucson, Betty. If he had a reason for coming here, it was major, I'm guessing for something he desperately needed. Now what would a man with a wife and baby to maintain and little chance of finding a decent job need?"

Betty sighed. "Cash."

"And he shows up on the very day, on the very time, at the very second Wili tries to gut us like a sea bass. The one person that could shake me up, distract me, like no one else in the world at this time in my life: my wife's ex, whom I know she loved very much."

Betty must have known how the last part was agony to say. "We have a problem on our hands, Daniel, we do. But trust me, baby, it has nothing to do with Henry being any sort of threat. To the company…or to us. But if you're determined to follow through on this hunch of yours, I'm with you. But I won't let you hurt him."

"I don't look at Henry and go "Daniel SMASH," you know. What do you take me for, a Neanderthal?"

Betty stretched, relishing the soreness in her body that hadn't existed before their excursion into the janitor's closet. "Sometimes, when the mood takes you," she smirked cheekily and glanced downward.

Daniel, realizing that he'd been carrying on the entire conversation with his pants around his ankles, moved swiftly to remedy the issue. Betty likewise tried to smooth her tousled hair, and hoped her swollen mouth could be passed off as a food allergy.

She grabbed a mop and opened the door.

"Found it," she declared loudly, holding the mop upright.

**Okay, so this was a filler chapter, and a short one at that. But hopefully a HOT filler chapter. More soon, I promise, but in the meantime I hope for many juicy reviews ;-D**


End file.
